


A Game of Circles: Season 5

by Mendeia



Series: A Game of Circles [5]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: But they're still spies so there are many secrets, By which I mean a tag for literally every episode, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Epistolary (sometimes), Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 15:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 16,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: Conversation is a game of circles. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIn every episode of NCIS:LA, there is an unseen moment, a hidden exchange between a spymaster and her finest student. As handler and agent, or protector and orphan, or, sometimes, defenders of one another even when the other would *really rather they not, thanks,* Hetty and Callen have a relationship worth uncovering. Updated weekly, tag for every single episode of season 5.





	1. S5E1: Ascension

Hetty had been sitting in Callen's living-room chair for less than an hour when he returned home.

"I see why you like this spot," she said. "It gives a very nice view of the house."

He shook his head, shutting the door. "If I'd known you were going to wait that long, I would have come sooner."

"Your time with your team was important. And you knew I was here. You checked your security footage as soon as I entered."

"I thought you were just checking on me." He hung up his jacket in the hall closet and came to stand where he could face her. "You could have joined us."

"No." She shook her head. "Your team needed a bit of privacy to reconnect after the events of today." Hetty peered up at him. "How are they – really?"

"Well, Sam is being...very Sam," he said. "When I dropped him off, he was trying to pretend like nothing happened and he wasn't nearly electrocuted to death."

"Michelle will not be fooled."

"Not for a second." Callen shook his head. "Besides, _somebody _sent Sam's medical paperwork to her ahead of time, so she was waiting with his dose of drugs and a five-page description of after-incident care. Sam's not setting foot out of that house any time soon if Michelle has anything to say about it."

"I daresay she does."

"Still. Not exactly a welcome home party after the day they've had."

Hetty smiled. "You're just sorry you didn't think of it first."

"Little bit," he admitted. Then he heaved in a breath. "Kensi's fine, physically. Pretty shaken by Deeks, though. And Deeks…"

Hetty shut her eyes. "Yes. Mister Deeks is not doing well."

"He's trying to pretend it's just like normal, that it's no different from getting shot." Callen started to pace. "But it's all wrong."

"You let me worry about Mister Deeks," Hetty said. "I will be keeping a _very _close eye on him."

"He's going to need help, Hetty. Nate or somebody, whoever can get him through it. He's showing all the signs." Callen sighed, running a hand over his head. Then he leaned against a wall. "I've seen worse...but not much worse in somebody who made it back into the field without serious complications."

"I know." She folded her hands in her lap, but Callen could see how tightly she was holding on to herself. "And while I have faith that eventually Mister Deeks will prove resilient enough to endure, that process will not be simple, nor straightforward. We must all be prepared to help him in whatever way we can."

"Then why are you here?" he asked her. "Why are you sitting with me instead of him? You probably know that he let Kensi take him home, but she didn't stay."

"I wasn't certain, but I assumed as much. However, I could ask you the same thing. Since you clearly followed them."

He let out a breath. "I don't...I don't know that I'm the right person to help him. So much of this was my fault, Hetty. How...how could he even look me in the eye, when it was my fault Janvier turned on Sam and put them in that position?"

"And that, Mister Callen, is why I am here." She fixed him with a steady gaze. "Your guilt is, unfortunately, not misplaced. Nor will I try to talk you out of it. But expect a call from Nate for yourself."

He huffed a laugh. "Figures."

"However, you must not allow your own pain to color how you handle Mister Deeks or Mister Hanna or even Miss Blye. _You _did not rain this suffering down upon any of them. Janvier did that. Sidorov did that."

"Because of me!" G shoved away from the wall. "They got hurt because of me."

"But they do not blame you for it." Her answer was calm and unflappable. "They do not. And you must respect them enough to accept that gift for what it is."

Hetty rose from the chair and moved to face him.

"Mister Callen, your team still trusts you. Your team _loves _you." She held up a hand and he caught it. "They all know you would have taken their place in an instant, would have endured anything for them if you could have."

His throat was tight. "Yes, I would."

"That same loyalty, that same devotion – they will need it, Mister Callen. They will look to you for strength, for certainty, for a direction to follow. You must be able to give them that. To stand steady and unmoving in the storms that surround them. You must be their anchor, their fixed point. So that, no matter what else they must navigate alone, they can always find you shining in the darkness to guide them back."

"What if I can't?"

"You can, Mister Callen." She squeezed his hand. "Be your constant self, and be the leader I know you are. Trust in your people and cover their backs. Do what you always do."

He drew in a shaky breath. "What if it isn't enough?"

"Then you will still have me to turn to." And she gave him a gentle smile. "If your own anchor gives way, mine shall not."

That made him smile a little, too. "You've always been my fixed point. You've never let me down."

"And you have never let me down, Mister Callen. And you certainly never shall. Not for yourself, and not for your team."

He sighed. "I hope you're right about that, Hetty."

"Of course I am, dear boy. Of course I am. Now." She let his hand go and started to walk into the kitchen. "We are going to have a cup of tea and we are going to make some very specific plans for Mister Janvier. Assuming he survives tonight's surgery, I want to make absolutely certain he never crawls out of wherever we decide to put him."

"Are you sorry I didn't kill him?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Oh, no." Hetty turned on the threshold of the kitchen and her eyes were cold. "No, living out the rest of his life in prison suits him very well. However."

He raised an eyebrow.

"If we ever see him again, Mister Callen? You won't be obliged to shoot him. I will do it myself." Her glare went nuclear all on its own. "_No one_ hurts my agents. _No one_."


	2. S5E2: Impact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another delay. Stuff continues. But I'm okay and hanging in there. Here are some more chapters for you.
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen got all the way home before he decided that he couldn't just leave it without saying something. He pulled out his phone to text Hetty. "You did notice that Eric's pants were cut, right?"

Hetty responded quickly. "Of course."

He decided he needed to ask, just to be sure. "Are you going to kill him?"

"It wasn't something I was planning, no. But be forewarned that I intend to exact revenge for the damage to my trousers over the next few days."

Callen laughed. "You're going to scare the crap out of him, aren't you?"

"Something like that."

"Can I watch?"

"I'll record it for you."

G couldn't wait to see what she had planned for Eric. He knew that Hetty deliberately went through cycles of building up his confidence and then reducing him to a quivering pile of helpless pudding – he wasn't quite sure _why_, but he knew she did it intentionally. The pudding cycles were always hilarious.

And given that he had desecrated a piece of clothing she had given him, the punishment would be severe.

Another text arrived.

"Nate spoke to Mister Deeks."

Callen's attention instantly shifted. "How is he?"

"Not as bad as we had feared, not as well as any of us would like."

He let out a breath. "What can I do?"

He knew the answer already, of course, and wasn't surprised when it arrived.

"Your job, Mister Callen."

Right. That. He shook his head. "Tell me if I need to do something."

"I shall. In the meantime, leave Mister Beale to me."

G sighed. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.


	3. S5E3: Omni

In the week after the Omni case, Hetty came to two conclusions.

First, she needed better security on her garages.

Second, G Callen had far too much free time on his hands in the late evenings.

She let him think he was getting away with it for two nights, but decided to confront him on the third. Which was why she ended up standing in a darkened garage when the door went up and her Aston Martin rolled in with the lights off.

Hetty could see the momentary pause in the car, as if the driver had considered throwing it into reverse and screaming back out the way it had come. She raised an eyebrow and glared harder.

The car came to a complete stop in its designated place and the engine turned off.

"Uh, Hetty." Callen exited the car looking very like a teenager caught out after curfew. "What are you doing out here?"

"I might ask you the same thing, Mister Callen," she said, arms crossed.

Callen approached her cautiously, one side tilted towards her the way he did when he was particularly on his guard and wary – that, at least, was reasonable. "I'm kinda having flashbacks to when I used to sneak out here. Am I...missing something?"

"Oh, don't you turn that around on me. Especially given that, until ten seconds ago, _I _was missing something rather significant." And she eyed the car.

"I don't know how significant one car can be given that you have about ten of the things."

"Eleven, actually. Now, what, precisely have you been doing with my cars?"

"Hetty…" He sighed. "It's really not a big deal."

"Then it is not a big deal to tell me about it," she said.

"Fine." His hands dropped and his body posture relaxed as it usually did when he was finally coming clean after such avoidance. He really was very predictable when he was being himself and not someone undercover. "I was just testing them. Okay?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Testing them for _what_, exactly?"

"You told us that the Shelby Cobra had been modified," he said. "That Sam wouldn't fit in it and I wouldn't, either. Which, by the way, Kensi is the _exact _same height I am, taller in heels, and _she _fit just fine."

"Not the point, Mister Callen."

"Anyway. I realized that you might have some cars which you modified to the point that somebody my size or Kensi's actually couldn't drive them. And I thought I should know which ones."

She frowned. "For what possible reason could you need to know that?"

"I don't know. Maybe somebody goes after you at home someday and I've got to get you out in a hurry." He shrugged. "Anything could happen. I just needed to make sure I could drive any of your cars if I really had to."

She took a step closer to him. "So...this was all for my protection? Not just you taking it into your head to joyride in my cars?"

"Hetty." He gave a charming smile. "Would I really do that?"

"Without question, Mister Callen." She sighed. "Very well. I will accept your ridiculous answer, since I do believe you mean it." She held up a hand before he could speak. "But, no more sneaking in and upsetting my security. If you want to test my cars for suitability for whatever extremely unlikely scenario is keeping you up nights, you will do it in daylight hours."

"Fair enough. Thanks, Hetty."

She nodded and turned to go. "Oh." She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "And you will wash and wax each car by hand when you are finished with them."

"Hetty!"

"_And_, as you have already taken out six of the eleven, I expect you to wash those six before you take any more. I shall expect you tomorrow afternoon. Be sure to bring _proper _rags and sponges." She resumed leaving. "Good night, Mister Callen."

From behind her, he grumbled, "Good night, Mister Miyagi."

"I heard that!" she called back.


	4. S5E4: Reznikov, N

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a big episode. Seeing Callen actually crying at the end as he watches the film of his family, knowing his father's name for the first time – it's just a lot. And very hard to capture.
> 
> Enjoy!

As G reached his car, he realized he didn't have a projector that could play the reel Hetty had handed him. There was one at the office, though, part of Hetty's collection of technology from before Eric's time.

He unlocked his car to find the projector sitting in the front seat.

"Hetty," he breathed.

Suddenly curious, he put a hand on the case. He could still feel a glow of warmth coming from the machine inside.

Hetty had already watched the reel, and was giving him the privacy to do so for himself.

He had too many feelings to be upset about her previewing whatever had been recorded. And, if he was honest, he was grateful that she had screened it first. It meant there was nothing on the reel which was dangerous, nothing which was going to lead more trouble to his door. Whatever it contained, it was personal and uncomplicated.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he considered calling her. He wasn't even sure what he would say, but it seemed like the thing to do. To thank her for her foresight, maybe, or to ask her to come watch it with him.

But as soon as he had that thought, he banished it.

This was his life, his journey, and the one piece of the puzzle even Hetty couldn't help him solve. He wanted to face it alone.

And, of course, she had known that – which was why she left him the projector that way without saying a word about it.

G was aware that his life could be broken into five pieces. The current piece was his work at NCIS, his team, the dangers they faced and the mysteries they unraveled. The piece before that had been his time as an agent for every other agency – before Kensi and Eric, before Sam, before he was part of a team and family and back when he was just an agent. The two parts of his life prior to those were bound inextricably to Hetty – his time in her care after the foster system, and the time in the foster system.

But the fifth part of his life, or, more accurately, the first, was where he truly began – the time before with his mother. Hetty was his link to his mom, and that link carried him from her death all the way until he left Hetty's house and entered the next phase of life. And while Hetty could give him his mother, she could not give him his father.

It was the last gaping hole in the story. The last rift in his soul.

And today he had one tiny piece to add to it. He had his father's name.

Callen's hands shook on the wheel all the way home.

Before he set up the projector, though, he did send Hetty one text.

"Breakfast?" He didn't add the 'please' to the end of it, because she would understand it all too well.

She responded at once. "I'll be waiting."

Hetty was the safety net that had carried him, even when he didn't know it, for almost all of his life. Tonight, he was going to dive into that hole at the far beginning...and perhaps learn more than just the name of the man who was his father.

But tomorrow he would have to return to the life he had now, and to do that, he needed that safety net to carry him just a little bit this time.

Afterwards. After a reel that might change everything.

He couldn't know what it might do, what it might bring back, what it might make him think or feel – but it wouldn't change one thing.

His team would be there in the office in the morning. Hetty would be waiting for him for breakfast. They would be family and they would be together no matter what tonight brought.

With that certainty, G allowed himself to drop all defenses and dive into the past.


	5. S5E5: Unwritten Rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode, if you need the reminder, is one where Nell ended up undercover in an office building and they ultimately discovered that the bad guy was there in the office with her. It involved a chase through the hallway and Callen and the team ultimately catching the guy after a shootout in the garage. But, in the meantime, Nell was disabled by a very nasty hit from the guy. Callen was NOT pleased.
> 
> Enjoy!

Partway through the debriefing in the back room of whatever spot Kensi had picked, the bruising on Nell's face started to show. Callen had checked her for a concussion at the scene when Eric told him how she'd been hit with a bag which turned out to have a corporate ledger and a laptop in it, but she had been fine. Now, however, a rich dark red was starting to welt on her skin.

"Gonna be a real shiner," Sam told her with approval.

Deeks had immediately launched into the most ridiculous how-I-got-that-one-bruise story he could, and Kensi had rolled her eyes with Nell at Eric's fumbling attempts to help. She had to actually intervene to keep him from continuously trying to offer her his napkin soaked in water, pointing out that she had a bruise, not a stray bit of ketchup.

Callen offered to go get some ice from the waiter, Nell shooting him a grateful look as Eric launched into his own ridiculous-bruise story, one which was probably stealing elements from at least one video game fight.

The waiter was busy, so G simply slipped into the kitchen himself to get a baggie and some ice from the freezer, moving confidently such that no one bothered him. He was on his way back when he ran into Hetty just outside their private room.

He gave her a questioning look. "You're not gonna try and make Nell put meat on her face, are you? Some kinda old-school trick? Because she will not go for it."

"Of course not." Hetty frowned at him. "That's an old wives' tale from when steak was less expensive to waste than ice."

It was one of those weirdly specific things Hetty just seemed to know, and he still, even after all this time, was surprised by it.

"O...kay. So what's up?"

"How is Mister Deeks? Really?"

"Honestly?" Callen let out a breath. "I'm not sure even he knows. But he's trying. And he asked us to trust him. I think...at this point it would be worse to doubt him."

"Hmm." She nodded. "I think you may be correct. Mister Deeks needs to know that our faith in him is solid so he can continue to expand his faith in himself. As long as that faith is not misplaced."

"I don't think he's really being intentionally reckless. I mean, I hope not." G grimaced. "In our line of work, it's not always easy to tell."

"Well. Keep a close eye on him as you can," she said. "At this point, I agree with your assessment. But I, too, shall be watching for signs of danger. If there is a risk to him, we must catch it before it can provide an opening at an inopportune moment."

"We'll have his back," Callen said, sure and certain. Because no matter what happened, Deeks was one of them, and they would see him through whatever came to pass. "And Kensi's taking care of him, too. As much as she lets herself, and as much as he lets her, I guess."

"They do have an interesting sense of...equilibrium, don't they?" But Hetty smiled a bit.

"You don't mind?"

"Happiness comes too seldom for people like us, Mister Callen," she said, meeting his eyes. "I would have to have a damn good reason to take it away from someone."

He smiled back. "I'm glad. They deserve it. If they ever figure it out."

"Well, even the deepest snow melts given enough time and warmth."

"Speaking of melting." Callen looked down at the baggie of ice which was dripping rapidly. "I think I better get a new batch or this won't be much more help than Eric's napkin."

Hetty chuckled. "Well, the last thing Miss Jones needs is more ineffective fussing, so I shall leave you to your Arctic expedition and will meet you at the resupply station."

Callen grinned all the way back to the kitchen.


	6. S5E6: Big Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Hey all.
> 
> So, I'm trying to come back per normal. I'm not up to replying to comments just yet, but I'm going to try to get back in the habit of posting every week. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here.
> 
> And thank you, all of you, for your kindness and understanding.
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen stepped into one of the quieter corners of the boatshed when his phone rang. "Hetty?"

"How was school today, Mister Callen?"

In spite of the seriousness of it all, he snorted. "How long have you been waiting to ask me that?"

"Since you opted to take over the undercover assignment for Miss Blye," she answered frankly. "Which, by the way, was a commendable decision."

"Why?"

"Regardless of the circumstances, one of your team was uncomfortable with their assignment. As team leader, it is always your responsibility to shoulder any burden for your teammates when they cannot do so themselves. Be it paperwork, a dangerous mission, or a difficult decision."

"Or, apparently, high school." He paused. "Is high school really that much worse for girls?"

"Oh, Mister Callen." Hetty's voice was chiding. "Believe me, for some of us, a prison sentence with hard labor attached would have been preferable."

"Okay. Good to know." He filed that one away for further consideration. "Was there anything you wanted to tell me about the case?"

"Not particularly. But as I don't yet want to take a call from SecNav, it would be useful to remain on the phone with you for a few more minutes."

He laughed. "I'll be your cover any time, Hetty."

"I am aware of that, Mister Callen. Now, I know you were only a substitute teacher for a matter of minutes before you were forced to break cover, but did you learn anything interesting?"

"Yeah, that the history class those kids are in doesn't really live up to the name." He frowned. "It was less nuanced factual information and more 'this is kinda how it went from a certain point of view if you don't address small complications like socio-political realities or class dynamics.' Honestly, how are kids today supposed to know anything if nobody teaches them what really went on?"

"I think you have an unfair advantage, Mister Callen." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Your own education was piecemeal at best until you encountered a certain dedicated tutor who was willing to stir up every possible angle on any historical event until you saw a much broader framework of context than the average student."

"Yeah, well, remind me sometime to thank _my tutor_, because I could have written a better chapter than that book had off the top of my head."

"I'm sure anyone who was invested in your education would be glad to hear it."

"It was that same tutor who taught me about the three C's – communication, context, and control. And how language isn't the only form of communication, you can't communicate effectively without context, and even perfect communication and a good sense of context won't help you if you can't control yourself and the flow of information." He glanced back towards the interrogation room. "I think a lot of kids out there would have benefitted from a lesson like that."

"Unfortunately, Mister Callen, that tutor is long retired from the teaching profession. However, I find that lessons of that particular type tend to make themselves known to us one way or another, if a little later in life."

He huffed a laugh. "I think you're half-right, Hetty."

"Oh? Which half?"

"You're right that people are going to learn about the nuances of context one way or another, even if the lesson is painful. But when it comes to that particular tutor?"

"Yes?"

"I haven't stopped learning from her yet."


	7. S5E7: The Livelong Day

"I didn't know you liked trains."

Hetty gave him a smile as Deeks watched his train go around the little track while Kensi and Sam aggressively ignored the distraction. Callen was just glad Deeks had the sense to run it between their desks and not around them like a fragile fence – he was _not _crawling on the floor to get a cup of coffee.

"There's still a great deal about me you don't know. Trains were always more of a boy's hobby when I was growing up, so perhaps it was the cultural taboo that first got my attention. However," and she made a sideways glance, "I believe we both understand the appeal."

"Sure." He nodded. "Freedom, travel, touching a piece of history. Something in the serenity of taking a journey without traffic."

"Precisely. Though modern trains are far less aesthetically pleasing than the classics."

"Well, sometimes the loveliest things are the classics," he replied.

Hetty's smile went fond and teasing. "I know you're not talking about me, Mister Callen."

"Can't a guy just voice an opinion?" he returned, smirking.

"A guy? Perhaps. You, not so much." She swatted at his arm.

"Hey!" Sam turned around in his seat. "You still working, or are you two going to start braiding each other's hair and talking about boys?"

"I would pay money," Deeks popped up, "to watch Callen braid Hetty's hair."

"And I would pay money to watch Hetty braid yours," Kensi shot back at him.

Callen laughed and returned to his seat while the rest of his team fell into familiar banter. But by the time they finished the reports and convinced Deeks to take down his train set – which he already was very vocal about putting up in his place as soon as he got home, and never mind that it was nearing 2am – he was becoming more thoughtful.

Hetty had been so delighted by that train.

And it _had _been a long time since he'd done anything nice for her.

It took him two weeks to acquire all the pieces he needed, and to correctly pick a night when she was at one of the other houses. Dovecote had the most impressive foyer, after all.

Two days later, Hetty came into the office with a spring in her step and a smile hovering around the corners of her expression that even Eric could see. It was Nell who asked her about it up in Ops before the day's briefing.

"So...you're in a good mood today. Something up, Hetty?"

Hetty's smile was almost girlish, and she made a visible effort to tone it down.

"I spent a lovely evening...recapturing an old feeling."

G looked away from Sam's too-insightful gaze and hoped his ears weren't turning red – they had, when he had been a kid and was suddenly embarrassed that way. Deeks started to make some kind of deeply inappropriate comment which was swiftly ended by Kensi's smack to the upside of his head, and they moved onto the topic at hand.

But later, G spotted Hetty sitting at her desk smiling at her laptop. When she stepped out to go speak to Eric and Nell, he sneaked a peek.

Her laptop's desktop picture had been reset from the usual nature scenes she used. Now it showed a downwards picture taken from midway up a spiral staircase. Filling up the round floor below, lit by a dozen lights and lamps, was an enormous model train setup. The track curved in and out and around, and a few toys and Legos and strategically-placed dollhouses gave the whole thing an air of a proper train table. Sitting in the middle of the circle was a stool with a conductor's hat on it.

Callen grinned. He could just imagine her sitting on the stool, playing with the trains as if she were a kid again. It was one of the earliest things he had learned about her – in many ways, Hetty's inner child had never grown up at all. It was something they shared, actually, to the chagrin of pretty much everybody else.

But Hetty was happy with her present, and that was all that mattered.

For a full month, he could always tell when Hetty was staying at Dovecote and had been playing with her trains. Those were the days she always, always smiled.


	8. S5E8: Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the episode that ends with the team going off-book and using the ruse of a fake earthquake and a gas leak to sneak into a mansion owned by the Russian consulate (or something) to steal back some sensitive information that the Russians had already stolen. Owen is on the warpath, and Hetty is probably going to go down for dereliction of duty, if not treason. But – not with her team backing her up.
> 
> Enjoy!

They returned to the office late, after most everyone was gone. Just outside the door, Callen turned to his team and stopped them.

"Let me talk to her," he said. "If it's going south, I'll try not to drag you all with me."

"G, we're part of this," Sam said. "You ain't going down alone."

Callen looked across the five faces before him, this team which was everything he ever could have wanted.

"No, but if I can soften the blow, I will. Deal?"

And Sam understood what he couldn't quite say and nodded, ushering them all inside and steering Kensi, Deeks, Eric, and Nell over to the bullpen, leaving Callen alone to walk up the steps to Hetty's office.

She was sitting in her chair, waiting.

"You shouldn't have gone," was the first thing she said. "Or do you no longer care for the laws regarding sovereign territory belonging to other nations?"

Callen sat down in the chair opposite her and placed the two hard-drives on her desk. "Not like they care about ours. And if we hadn't..."

"If you hadn't, I would certainly be finished here. Now, I may yet be finished, but you've thrown your team in with me." She frowned. "It was foolish, Mister Callen."

"Okay, first of all? We all thought it was worth it. Every one of us." He glanced across to his team talking quietly. "I'd have gone alone, but they were all in it with me. Without hesitation." He met her eyes and held them. "They were all willing to do this for you, Hetty."

She glanced away.

"And secondly, no matter how illegal it was, you can't try to tell me it wasn't necessary for us to get this back before the Russians could make use of it." He tapped the drives. "Better somebody goes to jail than this data end up on the other side of the game."

"That's not why you did it, though. And we both know it." She sighed. "Someday, Mister Callen, you are going to have to stop protecting me."

"Not a chance."

"How many close calls are we going to have until you sacrifice your career?"

G leaned forward. "As many as it takes, Hetty, and that's a promise." He shook his head. "I'd give up my career today if I had to, or tomorrow, or the next day. But I'm not letting you hang out to dry. Not when there's something I can do about it."

"This impulse of yours must be infectious," she said. "Now they all worry when I step out of the office. And they all participated in your little stunt."

"Hetty." He waited until she was really looking at him. "You'd do the same for any of us. Hell, you've done worse for us."

She acknowledged that much by inclining her head slightly.

"You once told me," he said, extremely cognizant of the context for what he was about to say, "that leadership is finding in your team the certainty to go on even when you don't have it for yourself."

Her eyes widened – it was the last thing she had said to him before she went to Prague.

"But you were also telling me that I had to look at my team and trust them. Not just lead them, but let them support me as well." He lowered his voice. "Hetty, look at all of us, and let us support you this time."

"It is not in my nature to…"

"I know," he interrupted. "And we all know that you would do anything to keep from having to ask for help. We all know that."

"It's not your job to help me," she said firmly. "It is my job to help and support all of you."

"Well." And he leaned back again, smirking, "But you also lead by example, so…"

She let out a breath, and without a word, conceded. "There may be hell to pay with this."

"We've paid worse," he said, really starting to smile.

"The Russian's won't forgive us for this."

"The Russians stole our data in the first place," Callen reminded her. "They're not going to cause too much trouble."

"Owen will be back soon, and he will _not _be pleased."

G grinned. "So, double win for us, then?"

And Hetty laughed in spite of herself. "Sometimes I truly don't know what I'm going to do with the lot of you."

Callen started to stand, reaching for the drives. "You'll think of something."

But Hetty put a hand down on the drives, pinning them in place. "Sometimes I don't know what I would do _without _the lot of you," she said very softly.

Callen nodded, his chest warm. "Good thing you're never going to have to find out."


	9. S5E9: Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode that starts with infiltrating a rehab center and ends with Kensi and Deeks spending a night together – finally.
> 
> Enjoy!

"So, what do you think?"

Hetty sighed at the inbound message. It was a wonder she ever got any reading done now that smartphones and texting had been invented.

She sent back, "No."

Callen's response was immediate. "You don't even know what I'm asking about."

"Yes, I do. You getting either tattoos or piercings. No."

"It's not like you could really stop me."

Hetty wished that ridiculous boy were here in person so she could give him the glare he deserved. He was probably cackling madly to himself, knowing he was baiting her and she couldn't frown him into submission.

She typed slowly, if for no other reason than to make him sweat.

"I absolutely can and you well know it. You may be a grown man, but I retain some rights and this is one of them. Besides, while the rest of your team may not see their undercover work suffer for such identifying marks, you are a different case entirely."

His response, when it came, was not what she had been expecting.

"It's not like I get naked on every case. Speaking of naked, how come you sent Deeks in as a sex addict?"

Oh, that brilliant boy. Using something innocuous to get her to let her guard down and provide an opening to ask the question he really wanted answered. He'd played her.

It was worthy of a proper response.

"There was no time to set up the physical manifestations of another addiction – he would have been found to be a fraud by the experts. But I also wanted him to think."

"I think he's moved on from just thinking. I think they both have."

Ah, of course. Hetty let out a breath and nodded. "Good. It's about time, I believe."

There was a pause before he replied again.

"Is this really going to be okay?"

She smiled as she composed a reply.

"When we take risks, we can never know how they will turn out. But, in this case, I believe that not taking the risk would be ultimately a greater danger to the both of them as individuals, partners, and members of our team. It may not end how we would like, but at least we will be able to move forward."

"Assuming they can handle it."

She nodded, though he obviously couldn't see it. "Indeed."

"You're a closet romantic."

She laughed and typed back, "As are you, I believe."

"Enjoy your book, Hetty. Good night."

"Good night, Mister Callen."


	10. S5E10: The Frozen Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go with Kensi's plot in Afghanistan…
> 
> Enjoy!

"I don't move pieces, Mister Callen. I move the board. Good night."

G drew in a breath that felt like it should freeze in his chest.

So much was wrong right now. Kensi and Deeks seemed to have regained their equilibrium, maybe, but the case could have gone sideways at every step in the meantime. Hetty had even asked him to be sure his team was ready, and he hadn't been certain. He'd gone into the field with them, but he hadn't been sure of them.

And that was not counting Kensi hitting Deeks across the face, which had gotten lost in the mess but he couldn't not know about it, and, technically, he couldn't just let it pass without comment. If there hadn't been so much else going on, so much else going wrong, that would have been something else to resolve.

If Kensi weren't being reassigned, it would have been a problem for tomorrow. But now…

Hetty had dismissed them, had turned away, and Callen knew not to question her. Not this time.

She'd told him herself.

"I move the board."

It wasn't just a statement regarding her general philosophy. It wasn't even an exaggeration.

Hetty was not losing Kensi, was not sacrificing a piece, was not handing a player over to another hand to be used. Hetty was changing the board, but not the game.

But she didn't mean the usual game of them versus criminals, the game of cartels and undercover and assignments done by the weekend. This was _the game_. The _long _game.

Whatever was happening, this was _big_. This was _real_.

And yet, it wasn't personal, at least for Hetty. The game was never personal when Hetty played it. Romania and the Comescus had not been a game; Callen knew she didn't think of it that way. Working with Nate, on the other hand, putting him in the position where he could do the most good and become what he needed to be, _that _was a game.

Whatever this was, whatever mission required Kensi, it was necessary, and Hetty was in control.

But still. He didn't have a good feeling about it.

G trusted Hetty completely, trusted that she knew what she was doing, trusted that she had good reason for sending Kensi away to someplace unknown, trusted that this was needed.

G could trust Hetty, but he didn't trust anything else. He didn't trust the world to be safe. And now Kensi, one of his team, one of his family, was going out into it without him to stand on overwatch. Without Deeks to have her back.

Kensi was one of the strongest people Callen knew, but the world could break diamonds.

But Hetty wasn't moving pieces – she was moving the board.

For now, that would have to be enough for him.

However, if this game took a turn in the wrong direction, there was nothing that would stop Callen from leading his team to get their piece back where it belonged.

Back where Kensi belonged. Back where they would be waiting for her.

No matter what.


	11. S5E11: Iron Curtain Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, to solve the case (bad guy suspected of war crimes), Callen, Sam, and Deeks go against SecNav orders to arrest the guy because he has a lot of CIA intel he could use against them. But he is a BAD DUDE, so they risk it anyway. It works out, but Hetty is absolutely not amused.
> 
> Enjoy!

As ordered, Callen stayed away from the office the next day. Other than a quick text to Sam, he didn't even reach out to his team or check his phone at all.

He couldn't really disagree with the punishment. He'd gone against direct orders. And especially now, when everything felt odd and off-balance, he needed to be steady. And that meant playing by Hetty's rules.

Not to be confused with playing by any _actual _rules, of course.

It was the first case with Kensi gone, though, and it hurt. It hurt for Deeks to be following them around like a lost puppy, and it hurt to think about how to get him into the field again without his real partner at his side. And Callen had caught Hetty glancing at Kensi's empty chair more than once over the course of the whole mess.

Deeks wasn't the only one who missed her, even if he missed her in a very different way.

Callen wasn't sorry for disobeying Hetty, at least in the sense that he wasn't sorry for what he'd done. But he was sorry for putting her in the position of having to go against him, having to be another source of struggle for a team already struggling. In the end, they had done the right thing, but he'd done it wrongly.

And now more than ever, he needed to do things right.

There was a tripwire somewhere that they could all feel, a source of tension and danger just out of sight. All they could do was work slowly and carefully until they could disarm it and put things back to how they should be – or it would blow up in their faces.

Callen was the team leader. It was his job to be stable when the world wasn't. Hetty had told him so herself, and she was right.

But he'd forgotten.

So he took his unpaid day without complaint, and spent it thinking.

In the morning, he made sure to arrive at the office early, early enough that only Hetty was there. He didn't go straight to her office, instead first making a stop to get himself a mug of tea.

She raised an eyebrow as he carried his tea with him. "Not much of an offering if you didn't bring some for me."

"You have your own tea," he pointed out. "Besides, it's not a peace offering."

"Oh?"

"It's…" He shrugged. "A good way to start the day."

She raised an eyebrow.

G cleared his throat. "Somebody...once told me that I needed to be calm, that I needed to be the leader my team could count on. And I...I didn't really do that the other day."

"No," she said. "You did not."

He nodded. "I'm not sorry for doing what I did. Those guys needed to go down."

She tipped her head. "I think they would both have been improved by a bullet to the knee, personally."

"Right." He drew in a breath and let the warm steam from the tea into his chest. "But I should have done it differently. I should have…"

"You should have come to me, Mister Callen," she said.

"Would you really have changed your mind and given us permission anyway?"

"I guess you'll never know, will you?"

Okay, he deserved that. He nodded. "Things are just...strange. And it isn't only because Kensi's not here. Deeks is off, and it's like there's a cold going around. Everybody's got a bit of it now."

"Indeed." Hetty took a sip from her own teacup. "And that, Mister Callen, is when we must be the best of ourselves. We must because it is our job. And it is our job because we _can_."

"I'm going to do better," he said. "I can't...I can't do this any other way than the way I do it, can't be anyone I'm not. But...I can do better."

"Yes, you can." She gave him a small smile. "And I know you will."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"For?"

"Still trusting me. Even after I disobeyed orders."

"Oh, Mister Callen. I will always trust you to do what you believe you must. Nothing will ever change that."

He met her eyes. "Is that...enough?"

She nodded, her eyes warm and fond. "More than enough, my boy."


	12. S5E12: Merry Evasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay!
> 
> Enjoy!

"You can stop lurking now, Mister Callen."

He stepped out from around a pillar, smiling. "That was good."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, moving back towards her desk.

"Of course not." He fell in beside her. "So, she's okay?"

"She has a very difficult and dangerous task, but I am fully confident in her. And she's not alone out there, either." Hetty gave him a sideways look. "Besides the threat of trouble, I think she is mainly concerned with what, or, rather, _who _she had to leave behind."

Callen didn't turn to where Deeks was sitting in his chair and radiating shock and desperation and elation in equal measure. He hoped the guy would remember how to talk like himself before the battery on the sat phone ran out.

"So, you're not worried about that being a distraction for either of them?"

"No." She shook her head. "If anything, I think it will decrease their level of distraction. They will be able to focus on their jobs now, knowing they can still reach one another if necessary."

"And when Kensi comes back?"

Hetty smiled. "If I was worried, I wouldn't have let it get this far, and you know it."

"True enough." G leaned on the pillar at the edge of Hetty's office while she perched in one of the chairs he normally used. "So, usual Christmas plans?"

"I may have some travel in the next few days," she said. "There are...some people I would very much like to see."

Callen nodded, understanding. Now that he had some idea about how many children like himself she had raised and guarded and taught and supported, even if he did feel a twinge of jealousy to share her attention, he could hardly ask her not to spend the holidays with the others.

"But I already have my invitation from Michelle, including a rather intimidatingly-worded threat should I fail to appear for Christmas brunch." She smiled at him. "That threat will be extended to you if you are foolish enough to think you aren't spending the day with Sam's family."

"Oh, I know I am." He held up his hands. "The day I miss Christmas at the Hanna house is the day I have to find a new partner."

"One should spend the holidays with one's family," she said.

"Yeah."

Hetty looked up at him, frowning. "Mister Callen, are you…?"

"No." He shook his head. "Whatever you're thinking, no."

Her smile went knowing and amused. "Well, then, I suppose you wouldn't mind if I asked you to join me for supper tomorrow night."

G raised an eyebrow. "I thought you just said you would be traveling? Spending the holidays with family?"

"And so I shall." She actually winked. "With some clever arrangements, and a few private flights, I can see a great deal of my family in a very short amount of time." She rose and held out a hand.

Callen offered her his arm at once to lead her back to the party.

"Sounds like you're going to be pretty busy," he commented. "Jetting from here to who-knows-where and back in time for Christmas. And then out again, probably." He blinked. "Actually, you always travel a lot between Christmas and New Year's. Now I guess I know why."

"Indeed." She gave his arm a slight squeeze. "While the holidays are meant to be relaxing, mine tend to be rather hectic. And yet, it is all worth it."

He looked down at her and smiled. "I'm glad you can see so much of your family, Hetty. Even if you must have killer jet lag in the end."

"Jet lag is nothing after a life like mine," she said. "And it's not just my family, Mister Callen. Remember? Even if they don't know it, and even if you don't know them."

His chest went tight for a moment. "Our family? Like it's our team?"

"And sometimes," she said, looking over the party, at Deeks still on the phone with Kensi, at Sam and Eric drinking way too much of Nell's eggnog, at the familiar faces who made everything possible. "Sometimes, they are one and the same."


	13. S5E13: Allegiance

After the impromptu naturalization ceremony in the Boat Shed, Deeks declared that the truly American thing to do was go get tacos, which is how Callen, Sam, Deeks, Ehsan, and Hetty wound up sitting on benches overlooking the ocean, while Sam and Deeks feuded about the ingredients in food truck tacos.

"Out of curiosity," G said, amazed that Hetty could eat the tacos as primly as if she were dining with royalty, "how did I become a US citizen? I wasn't born here."

"No, but your mother was a citizen," she said.

"Yeah, but, nobody knew she was my mom, either." He peered at her. "You?"

"Me." She set down the paper napkin which didn't have so much as a spot of spilled salsa on it. "Once we located you in LA, it was simple enough to ensure you had enough of a paper trail to confirm at least that much."

"Honestly, though, I'm not sure anybody would have guessed otherwise," he said after a moment. "When you've got a white, English-speaking orphan in the system, you don't typically wonder where they were born."

"Unfortunately, that's true. Still, I thought it prudent to arrange your citizenship beyond andy doubt in the event that you ever did follow your family's footsteps into our line of work."

He stared at her for a moment. "You were really planning that far ahead, all that time?"

"Of course."

"Talk about the long game." He sat back, shifting his gaze to the ocean. "What if I'd...remembered Romania? What if I clung to that part of my heritage and didn't...didn't want to protect and serve this country?"

"Well," she let out a breath, "then that would have been a problem for another day."

"But you weren't worried?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

She frowned. "You have been many things in your life, Mister Callen, but you have never been a traitor. Even in the beginning, when your past was only a step behind you, you had the spirit of your grandfather."

He shook his head. "But I didn't know that. I didn't know any of it."

"You did, however," she met his eyes, "always walk a certain path of reckless independence, justice, endurance, and camaraderie. If our nation in its youth had an avatar, I imagine it would have looked very like you at a certain age."

He huffed a laugh. "So you thought I was, what? The all-American ideal?"

"Of a certain sort. As Mister Deeks is another, as Mister Hanna is another. And now as our new friend is another." She glanced at where they were now making a mess all over the other bench. "There is no one United States, Mister Callen. We are a people of many faces and many forms. And even when I first saw you as a child, I was certain you could find your place amongst them."

"Even though I'm half Russian?"

She smiled. "You could be half of any heritage in the world and still be yourself, Mister Callen."

He smiled back. "Well. Thanks for making me American. It would be really awkward if it turned out I was still a Russian citizen all this time."

"Awkward for us both," she agreed. "And the paperwork would be a _nightmare_."

"I'd have to take up drinking vodka." He smirked. "It _is _part of my heritage, after all."

"Trust me, Mister Callen." She shook her head with a rueful expression. "Even vodka cannot improve filing those particular forms. Really, I was just saving us both the trouble."

"Well, thanks for that part, too."

Her smile was real and she nodded. "You're very welcome, as always."


	14. S5E14: War Cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> So, just as an FYI, I'm planning to post this week and next, but after that I'm going to take a break until January. There is so much stuff that has to get done in December, and something's gotta give.
> 
> In 2020, the plan is to post every week except one or two here and there until I get to the end of season 7. That's how much I have written, and I'm not sure how to proceed beyond that given how seasons 8+ go. But…who knows?
> 
> Lastly, this episode is the one that ends with Callen on the famous blind date with Joelle, demonstrating once again that Callen really is trapped between the indomitable force that is Sam and the unmovable power that is Hetty.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty waited for the indignant text. She figured it would arrive either three minutes after Callen's arrival at the restaurant or two hours later.

When more than three hours passed, she was impressed.

The text, however late, was utterly predictable, of course. "You helped Sam set me up on a blind date!"

Well, obviously. "And apparently it went well."

The fact that the next text took almost two minutes was more telling than the "Yeah" it contained.

"Aren't you glad you wore the suit?" she sent back.

Another minute. "Yeah. Thanks."

She smiled. "I know your instinct is to close all possible open doors, but I suggest you consider making use of a doorstop this time."

"I don't have a doorstop. Who has an actual doorstop?" he sent back.

She knew what he expected — for her to leave him a doorstop in his house, or perhaps on his desk. It was an invitation to their usual exchanges, but that was far too easy. If she played the game the way he expected, it would give him reason to do the things he always did, to fold this opportunity into a corner where he could close it away and forget it.

She wasn't about to let him miss this chance when he had missed so many others. Even if it wasn't the chance of a lifetime, it was a chance for now.

"I suggest you make use of your ingenuity — and not your foot," she sent back. "Good night, Mister Callen."

She expected some sort of reprisal for that. She'd declined to play, and that was a move in itself.

She did _not _expect him to leave a pair of old sneakers in the back of her car. Old sneakers that _smelled_.

Even so, it made her smile. After all, he'd also changed the game, and now he was playing a new hand.

He was taking a new chance. And that was all she'd wanted.

(Though she could have done without the smelly sneakers.)


	15. S5E15: Tuhon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say? I love the character of Tuhon. He is badass and complicated and wonderful.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Callen wondered if it should be weird to watch a man drop to his knees in homage while surrounded by dead Russians. Maybe if it were a different man. But Tuhon had always been a point of deadly stillness and calm amidst the carnage, so his obeisance just to the left of blood-spatter was oddly fitting.

As was the regal way Hetty accepted his respect.

Something in Callen's chest beat hard watching that proud, unstoppable man bend for Hetty. It was _right _in a way few people who ever spoke to her were. As if Tuhon looked into Hetty's soul and saw exactly how much honor and respect she deserved. As if he could understand the formidable, endless strength to her which had only grown over time.

Of course, he himself was biased, and he knew it. But still.

It was about damn time somebody treated Hetty like the warrior queen she deserved to be.

Which didn't mean he wouldn't find ways to tease her later, or to cause trouble, or generally to make himself a nuisance just so he could keep them both laughing in the dark of the rest of their lives. That was one of his sacred duties, of course. If he let up his joking and pranking and mischief-making, they would both miss it, and days like this filled with uncertainty and bodies would take a heavier toll.

But G was glad to see Tuhon respond to that magnetic pull Hetty had on so many people.

Also, the fact that Tuhon regarded her so highly was the only reason Callen could ever relax with them in the same room. He'd seen Tuhon fight too often to ever feel completely safe with the man. Tuhon had been Hetty's sword for years, but a sword can still cut its wielder.

Tuhon was one of the few people in the world G Callen wasn't actually certain he could defeat in a fight, even an unfair fight. He was therefore the only person in the world about whom Callen felt that cold uncertainty _and _whom Callen could stand to allow within a hundred yards of Hetty.

But Tuhon's honor, and his devotion, were strong. Hetty wasn't of Tuhon's tribe, but he would kill anyone who meant her harm without a second thought. Somehow, and Callen didn't know how but he very much suspected it could be traced to Hetty herself — Tuhon had always known that Callen was equally as protective.

He'd called G "the man without a tribe," but they had both known it wasn't quite true, even then, seven years before. Certainly Callen wouldn't have claimed a tribe; he wouldn't have claimed a living soul. Even now, he answered Tuhon's little fire riddle by saying he would walk out alone — because that illusion was the safest to preserve.

But even seven years prior, Callen had seen a tiny smirk on Tuhon's face, and knew that the headhunter could somehow read Hetty's claim on him as if it were written on his skin, an invisible tattoo of his own.

Seeing Tuhon now, though, untouched by blood and head bowed to Hetty, Callen knew exactly what those tattoos meant to the man, and what the invisible marks on himself meant to him.

Because Callen did have a tribe now. Not just Hetty, whom he would guard with his life and follow into Hell if she asked it of him. He also had Sam and Kensi and Deeks and Eric and Nell. (And _possibly _Granger? It depended on the day and how annoying his politicking was.) He had a tribe he would protect and serve, not just because it was his job, but because it was his life.

When Tuhon stood and met Hetty's smile with his own, G found himself steadied all over again.

Tonight he wouldn't have to spend even one instant worrying that someone would get to Hetty if he wasn't there. Tonight Hetty could go and spend time with a man she regarded highly, a man she trusted deeply, a man who had been her shield before Callen.

And she could do that, because Callen would take the watch of their people in her stead. Even if for an hour or two, he could do that much.

When Hetty looked up and their eyes met, he knew she saw all of it in his face, even the parts he couldn't have given names or words if he'd tried.

_Me, too, Hetty. All of that, everything he just did. What he is to you. Me, too, always._

_I know, Mister Callen. I know._

_Thank you for giving me a tribe of my own._

Her smile faltered and went just a touch softer.

_Thank you for being a part of mine._


	16. S5E16: Fish Out Of Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to be running a day late with this. The holiday season is nuts around my place (many family/friends/godkids for whom to buy presents) AND I managed to get a cold while shopping! Yay!
> 
> This will be the last set of chapters for 2019. I just know that I'm going to be even more busy and distracted for the remaining weeks of the year, so rather than torture myself about it, I'm just preemptively taking a posting break until January. Then, in theory, all should go back to normal with weekly updates until we finish with season 7 of this monster.
> 
> Also? This chapter is probably my favorite Gouda bit in the whole thing. The episode itself isn't particularly relevant – only that, at the end, Sam and Callen go out to get sushi together. The rest is just pure kitty fluff.
> 
> Enjoy!

Later he would blame drinking too much sake at the restaurant. He would lay it all on the sake, and on matching Sam drink for drink, and generally on some combination of alcohol and food coma after the night of some of the best sushi he'd ever eaten in his life that dulled his reasoning and made him susceptible. Later, the excuses would come.

For now, it was half an hour to midnight, and he was calling Hetty.

"Mister Callen?" Her voice on the phone was taut like a string — collected, calm, but ready to snap into action in an instant.

He came out with it in a rush. "I have a cat problem."

He could practically hear her blink in surprise. "A...cat problem?"

"Yeah. It's…"

"You called me this late because of the cat you claim not to own?"

"I called Sam first but he hung up on me," he said. "If you hang up on me, I'm calling Nell."

"Oh, leave Miss Jones out of your strange little dramas." She sighed. "What sort of cat problem are we talking about, then?"

"He's…well, listen." Callen held the phone out.

Gouda, helpfully enough, yowled directly into it. And not a short, gentle yowl, either. A long, drawn-out wail of objection which ended on a high screech of fury.

He resettled the phone against his ear. "See?"

"Well, he certainly has good lungs," she said, and G knew she was smiling. "Is that the extent of the problem?"

"No, see…" He ran a hand over his face. "He's been doing it since I got home tonight. Just sitting there on the back porch, making that noise. Even when I was inside."

"Well, obviously he's trying to tell you something."

"Yeah, that he wants animal control called on him." Callen flinched as the cat repeated the noise. "I don't know what to do. He's never wanted to come inside before, and he's not acting like he does now."

"Oh?"

"I opened the door and gave him space, and he just stared at me and made the noise again."

"Could he be seeking your attention, perhaps?"

He coughed. "I don't...I mean...petting isn't really our thing."

"Mister Callen, you've had this cat for so long and you don't pet him?"

"We respect each other's personal boundaries."

"Oh for the love of Gucci." She was rolling her eyes, he just knew it. "Give it a try and see what he does."

Callen was out of other ideas, so he knelt down on the porch and extended a hand.

Gouda ran to it faster than a bullet and immediately started chewing on his fingers.

"Ow!" Callen pulled them back and stood up again. "He bit me!"

"Hmm. Then perhaps there is something else. Have you fed him recently?"

"Yep, and there's water in the bowl, too." He examined his hand in the porch light, but found the skin unbroken. "He's not acting hurt or sick. Just...ticked off."

"Well, that's an emotional state I believe we share," she returned. He knew she was amused, though.

"I'm getting there myself," he said. "If he doesn't quit making that noise, I don't know what to do. I don't want him to get...cat-arrested."

Hetty sighed again. "It is obvious that your cat has some sort of need he feels you particularly can fulfill. If he is fed, and if his situation is comfortable, and if he does not seek affection, then we must be more creative." She paused. Then, "Have you showered since eating out tonight?"

"No. Why?"

"And I assume that the odor of your dinner and its leftovers is strong?"

"Are you telling me you think my cat thinks I smell bad?"

"Not at all. But I believe your problem may be one which is common to pets, toddlers, and sometimes our own Mister Beale — the desire to partake in something one had no intention of sharing."

Callen would _also _blame the sake for the amount of relief he felt at any possible solution, even if he wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. "What?"

"Your cat, Mister Callen, would like some of your sushi."

G stared at the cat, who let out another wail. Blinking and feeling almost numb, he turned to go back into the house. Balancing the phone on his shoulder, he grabbed his bag of leftovers and extracted a single piece of sashimi that had been intended for a later snack. Already soaked in soy sauce and wasabi, rice and all, he carried it back to the porch and set it down in front of the cat.

Gouda let out an _unholy _sound of glee and ate it in three bites. And licked the porch to in order to get the last drops of soy sauce and a few scattered grains of rice.

"That is _not _normal, Hetty. I'm pretty sure cats shouldn't eat wasabi," he found himself saying.

Her voice totally controlled and prim, she said, "If there were any cat on this planet, Mister Callen, who would be strange enough to eat wasabi, I am absolutely _certain _it would be the same cat which would choose _your _house out of every neighborhood in LA in which to make its home."

Gouda let out the wail again, pointedly looking between Callen and the spot where he had put the sashimi.

"I...guess so. But I don't have that many leftovers."

"Then I suggest you either order in or find a nearby grocery store with an acceptable selection at this time of night," Hetty said. "Either way, if you do not bring me a picture of your cat eating sushi in the morning, I will dock your pay for a month."

He knew she was absolutely not joking about that at all, and he kind of loved her for it.

"Well, looks like I'm going shopping. Good night, Hetty. And thanks."

"You're welcome, Mister Callen. Good night."

He hung up, completely certain that in one house or another in the area, Hetty was laughing herself sick.

He wasn't thrilled about the prospect of driving to a grocery store in the middle of the night for sushi for not-his cat, but it would be very much worth it if he got a good picture for her. And it would make a good story for Joelle, too.

He groaned. Now he was thinking about ways to impress Joelle. Damn.

Gouda yowled again.

"Fine," he said, pointing at it. "One problem at a time. I hope you like seaweed rolls and fake crab meat."

It turned out that as long as it contained something almost like real raw fish and had enough soy sauce and wasabi piled on, Gouda would even eat spring rolls stuffed with nothing but carrots and avocado.

Callen was officially sharing his backyard with the strangest cat on Earth.

But the pictures he sent Hetty were _hilarious_.


	17. S5E17: Between the Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts of this episode that stuck out to me aren't the plot, but the character interactions. More than any other episode since Kensi went to Afghanistan, this is the one where Deeks is clearly trying REALLY HARD not to be a third wheel, and also to prove that he belongs with the boys. It's trying, and adorable. And, yes, the following episode has rather a good amount of friendly ribbing of Deeks, with even Hetty getting in on the action – right before things in Afghanistan comes to a head, of course.
> 
> If you celebrate anything at the end of this year, I wish you a beautiful, peace-filled, and joyous occasion. If you celebrate nothing at all, I hope your December is lovely all the same, and that you are able to enjoy the time when everyone else is celebrating in your own way.
> 
> It's been a genuine pleasure for me to spend this year with all of you, sharing this story as it unfolds episode by episode. Thank you for all the laughter and joy and glee and squee you brought into my 2019, especially when I sorely needed it. I appreciate you all!
> 
> See you on the flip side of the decade. Enjoy!

She caught him right after the debriefing, while Deeks and Sam went to go clean their weapons.

"How is Mister Deeks handling things?" she asked.

Callen glanced to where his partner had gone with their temporarily-partnerless third wheel. "Actually, better than I thought. He doesn't think the same way Sam and I do, but he's right there with us."

"To be fair, there are very few people in the world who think like you and Mister Hanna," she said, smirking. "And I, for one, am glad of it."

He smiled. "When it was just me and Sam and Kensi, she was usually the quiet, competent one. Not flashy, not out to prove herself, just getting the job done. And making commentary, of course."

"Of course." Hetty nodded.

"But Deeks...well, he's not quiet. But he _is _competent. And…"

"And?"

Callen shrugged. "I think he still thinks he has to prove himself to us. When we were out there today, he was...not exactly trying too hard. But making sure I knew that he had my back, and Sam's. That he was right there with us, one-hundred percent. As if we didn't know that already."

"You do rather treat him like a pair of older brothers teasing the baby of the family," Hetty said. "And without Kensi here to balance him, it is possible Mister Deeks feels that he must overachieve in loyalty what he lacks in your shared brainwaves."

G looked at her and dropped all pretense of mockery. "Do we need to let up on him? I don't want to be making things worse here."

"On the contrary," she said. "I think Mister Deeks holds onto that strain of insincerity and jovial jockeying as an anchor. If you were to remove that from him, he might be forced to face his feelings honestly."

"And what do you think his feelings are?"

"He misses Miss Blye, obviously. But I think he is also concerned about his place here. That, without her, he is somehow not needed. Not part of this team."

G's jaw went tight. "After everything, he still doesn't think he's one of us?"

"I think he's not completely sure. And doubly so with his partner absent. It would make any person uncomfortable, liable to see doubt in the slightest shadow and feel off-balance at the first tremor of the earth." Hetty let out a breath. "Keep on as you have been, Mister Callen. Perhaps I shall tease him myself, just to keep him on his toes."

"Which sounds like the opposite of comforting," he said, but he was smiling again.

"For most people, yes, I suspect it would be. But for him, as for you, I think our Mister Deeks will feel more at ease when he is at the center of a storm again. A storm of our making, of course."

She met his eyes and gave a dark smile of her own.

Callen felt reassured. If the games he played with Hetty made him feel centered and safe, he could see how playing a different sort of game with Deeks would reassure him as well.

And it would keep things loose and fun, which was good for all of them.

Especially because G knew personally that Hetty would play the game with everyone, not just Deeks, and that meant he would have to be on his own toes as well, being one of her favorite targets.

They could all take their turn in the spotlight of mockery if it kept them all grounded when the world felt shaky.


	18. S5E18: Zero Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2020! I hope you enjoyed the end of 2019 and anything you might have celebrated. In my end of the world, we wrote down all the things from the year we were ready to let end with the year and burned them in a box at midnight. Very therapeutic.
> 
> So, this episode is the one that ends with the realization that Kensi is in trouble in Afghanistan after a series of jokes about Joelle in Callen's life. Thus was born this transitional oneshot.
> 
> Welcome back, and enjoy!

It wasn't so much a card as a folded piece of computer paper tucked under her laptop. Hetty thought it must have been dropped off while she was getting an update on a secure line, but she hadn't seen anyone come or go, and that could only mean Callen.

She shook her head as she pulled out the folded sheet. On the front was a drawing of an angel drinking a cup of tea. The angel had helicopter blades for wings and rounded glasses. The tea set was a crude recreation of her own on the table beside her desk, though the angel's tea set seemed to be hovering in midair.

Hetty was almost afraid to open it, remembering the last time Callen had left her such a doodle. But she sighed and persevered.

On the inside was written a simple poem:

_Roses are red  
_ _Violets are blue  
_ _Apparently I'm dating now  
_ _I pretty much blame you_

She frightened at least one person into running for the door by her bark of laughter.

At the bottom of the card was a post-script.

_P.S. Thanks._

She shook her head, smiling. That boy was still ridiculous.

A text arrived shortly thereafter from Michelle Hanna, who sent a picture of a simple flower arrangement which had arrived anonymously. It was the sort of thing Michelle would rather not worry Sam about given the choice.

Hetty noticed that the flowers were white roses and violets and texted a response explaining that certain agents who were partnered with Michelle's husband had very unique ways of showing gratitude, and that Michelle didn't need to worry.

Michelle sent back a grinning smiley face emoji.

That problem solved, Hetty turned back to the matter of the card and its poem. She had some time before she would need to go upstairs and check in with Owen in Afghanistan, and she didn't want to let such a missive, heartfelt and silly as it was, go unanswered.

However, Hetty had actual blank greeting cards in her desk. And they had teacups on them, too.

She wrote a quick reply, then tucked it in his locker. It didn't matter if he didn't receive it for a few days if he was otherwise too occupied in the morning to come in for a workout. He'd find it eventually, and that would suffice.

_If music be the food of love, play on.  
_ _Your poetry, however, impresses no one.  
_ _And your punctuation, or the lack thereof,  
_ _Says little to recommend your love.  
_ _And yet, your grasp of verse and rhyme  
_ _May serve you well another time._  
_Save your words for your Joelle rose -  
_ _Or perhaps try some better prose._

She couldn't have known what would happen to keep him from finding it for several days, of course. From the moment she began her conversation with Owen, everything else ceased to matter.


	19. S5E19: Spoils of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, finally, the conclusion of Kensi's arc in Afghanistan.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty met them all when their plane landed, alone only because she had threatened Nell and Eric with their jobs if they didn't go home and get some sleep after the last few days. She also arranged for three additional drivers and vehicles, knowing perfectly well that her team would be beyond even their significant limits.

When the five of them met her on the tarmac, she let her gaze roam over them, assessing but also allowing her emotions to be visible to those who had been so very close to the edge.

"Owen," she said in a tone that had been known to cause lesser men to tremble, "go home." She pointed to where the drivers were waiting.

Owen Granger glared at her for an instant before he sighed and nodded. "Debrief in the morning."

"In the _afternoon_, Owen," she corrected, and he didn't dare speak against her. She waited until he was actually in the nearest car and the driver was moving before she looked back at the others.

"Mister Hanna, your wife is waiting for you." But she stepped in front of him and held out a hand. "And thank you."

He shook her hand and gave her a tired smile. "Every time, Hetty. Every time."

She nodded.

She let Sam say his farewells to the other three before he, too, vanished into a waiting car.

"Now," she said, looking at her remaining agents. "The rest of you have a choice." And she pinned them with a glare before any one of them, even Callen himself, could interrupt. "Miss Blye, I know you are exhausted, but you _will _be going to the hospital. That is _not _up for negotiation. However, you may choose whom you wish to accompany you between Mister Deeks, Mister Callen, and myself."

Hetty's heart broke a little more at the uncertainty and overwhelming fragility in Kensi's eyes. She also noted how Kensi was holding onto Deeks's hand.

"I…" she began.

"I got this," Deeks said, and he even managed a nearly passable smile at the others. "I'll go with her."

Kensi squeezed his hand and swallowed and her face gave way to relief, and Hetty was utterly certain she had no idea about any of it.

"Very well." She gestured to the last car. "Your driver has orders to wait for you at the hospital. Barring an overnight stay, he will also get you home safely."

There was a quirk in the eyes of Detective Deeks which told Hetty he was thoroughly aware of the possible implications of that. That he realized Hetty was giving him permission to take Kensi home, or to go home with her, to stay the night with her. That he understood that this was a gift and an intentional one.

"Thanks," Kensi said, low and clipped.

"Yeah," Deeks met Hetty's eyes and let them speak for him. "Thanks."

Without a word, Callen scooped up Deeks's gear — as he was already carrying Kensi's — and followed them to the car. He exchanged a few quiet words with them both as he got them settled, then returned to Hetty's side as their driver pulled away.

"So. What about me?"

She regarded him for a moment. "Owen tells me that you essentially led your team into a no-win situation. That, if not for Mister Deeks and his timely arrival, I would not be welcoming five agents home, but one...accompanying four coffins."

"Three," he said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"If Deeks hadn't come, Sam and Granger and I wouldn't have made it — but they would have taken Kensi into Pakistan." He let out a breath that sounded like it hurt. "You wouldn't have gotten her back at all. And that's assuming Deeks could even abandon her like that."

"Hmm." She nodded. "Was there truly no other way to retrieve Miss Blye? Or was your only option to imitate Custer's Last Stand, with nearly the same end?"

"Granger wanted to wait for reinforcements, but we didn't know if they could even find us. We didn't have a lot of time to make a decision."

She peered at him, seeing his defensiveness only as a layer easily penetrated to his true feelings.

"You would have died."

He shut his eyes for a brief moment and nodded.

"You and Sam with you."

His mouth worked, and his jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

"Was it worth it, Mister Callen?" She took a step closer to him, never letting him look away from her eyes. "Were your probable deaths worth the risk you took to save Kensi's life?"

Sudden understanding lit up in his own eyes. "That's not the right question."

"Oh?"

"The right question is — was the risk to _our _lives worth the secret _you _kept when you sent Kensi out there in the first place?"

Hetty flinched, her chest suddenly gone cold. But she faced him squarely and answered, "No. If you had died, or Sam, or Owen, it would have been my doing. My unwillingness to tell Miss Blye why I sent her. My decision that led to her capture. My fault."

Callen nodded back at her. "So, really, we're both to blame. You got her into that mess, and I almost couldn't get her out. They're _our _team, right? So this one is on both of us."

"Very few people will see it that way, Mister Callen."

"Since when have I ever cared what anybody else thought?" he returned. "As far as I'm concerned, the only thing we can do now is deal with where we are. And, no matter what shape we're in, we're here."

Hetty found herself able to manage a tiny sliver of a smile at that boy who was so loyal and irrepressible even after a mission that could have been his last.

"But that doesn't tell me why we're still standing here and there's no car for me," he added with a bit of a familiar smirk.

"Tonight, you're coming home with me." She gave a slight shake of her head. "You're not the only one who almost lost their family on this one, Mister Callen. And while I am...surpassingly glad to have you all safe…"

He took the last steps forward between them and held out a hand. When she accepted it, he bent so he could meet her gaze more evenly.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Hetty."

"_Worrying_ doesn't begin to describe it," she said, and she meant it to be exasperated and mocking, but it came out small and much more sincere than intended.

"I wish I could say I wouldn't do it again…"

"Don't make promises you have no intention of keeping," she said. She squeezed his hand between both of her own. "Especially not to me."

He swallowed. "Then I won't. But I'll promise you one thing."

She raised an eyebrow.

"If we ever have to do this again, if you keep something from us like this and we barely make it back — even if it is your fault, I'll still remind you why it's not your fault."

"That doesn't make any sense, Mister Callen."

"Sure it does," and the smirk on his face was looking more comfortable again. "Because you did the best you could to protect the people you swore to protect. You're the one who taught me that sometimes you have to make the best of a lot of bad options, and you can only work with what you can do with them. You sent Kensi there to save an innocent life, and you didn't tell her because you didn't want it to get her killed."

"And it could have gotten you all killed instead."

"But it didn't." He folded his other hand around both of hers. "And next time maybe you'll do things differently, but maybe you won't."

She glanced away.

"Hetty." He waited until she looked back into his face. "I know, I _know _how bad this could have gone. For all of us. But even if it happens again...I'm still going to trust you to do the best you can. And that's enough for me."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She shook her head. "But will it be enough for the rest of your team?"

"Sure it will." And he made a real smile. "Because they trust you, too."

She almost whispered, "Even if my best intentions lead them straight into hell?"

"Even then." He straightened up, releasing her hands. "Now, this seems like the kind of conversation that should be accompanied by some tea, right?"

She let out a breath, shaking her head not at his suggestion, but at his easy forgiveness of her errors which could have cost his entire team their lives. At his ridiculous, unending faith in her and her judgement and her wisdom.

"Come on, Hetty. I could really use some tea after this week."

How could she deny him anything? How could she even consider it when he was here, safe and unhurt, when he had returned not just to LA, but to her, when he was still hers even after, once again, her secrets could have cost them everything?

But he was here. They were all here. None of them were dead on the side of a mountain in Afghanistan. None of them were resigning, or calling for a transfer. None of them had even hesitated to put themselves under her command tonight, though her only command was for them to rest and heal.

Once again, her family was bruised and torn, hurt and vulnerable — but they were not broken.

And the only thing to do now was to patch them up, in every way, and go forward.

She met his smile and managed to return it, albeit a little shakily.

"Some tea it is," she said, "and perhaps something stronger."

He actually shrugged as he fell into step beside her. "I dunno if I need anything stronger."

At her raised eyebrow, he grinned.

"After all, I've got you."


	20. S5E20: Windfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all – I'm feeling under the weather this week, but not too sick to update.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Hey, Hetty?" Callen sidled up to her office while the others gathered near the door. "You want to come with us for drinks to celebrate Kensi being back?"

She smiled. "Not tonight, I think, though please give the others my regrets."

"Okay. See you tomorrow then." But he had only turned away when he paused and turned back. "Oh, and…"

"Yes, Mister Callen?" She raised her eyebrows and waited.

"Is it really okay? I mean, Kensi and Deeks…" He made a gesture with his hands that might, if considered lewdly, have been inappropriate — except that it was almost incomprehensible.

Incomprehensible to anyone but Hetty, that is. She, of course, could see the depth and breadth of a relationship spelled out in Callen's odd motions.

"Do you think it shouldn't be okay for some reason?" she turned it around on him.

Callen blinked, then shook his head. "I think it won't be easy, but they'll figure it out if they really want to."

"Good. I believe so, too."

"Yeah, but," he glanced around for a moment, "Granger's not going to like it."

"The list of things Owen doesn't like could fill every book in a library," Hetty replied. "Don't worry about Owen. Leave him to me."

Callen laughed. "I'd almost feel sorry for the guy...except not."

"Indeed." She waved. "Go on. Enjoy your team, Mister Callen."

"Thanks, Hetty." But his eyes had lost some of their bright sparkle and were more steady and sincere. "Thanks for giving me my team back."

"Thank you, Mister Callen, for giving them something worthy to come back _to_."

He sketched a terrible salute — it was so awful, Sam began yelling in pure indignation from across the office — and waved as he jogged back towards the others.

Hetty watched them go, smiling. All six of them, three sets of partners, looked right together as they rarely looked alone. It did much to ease her heart to see them at ease again.

Twenty minutes later, her phone dinged.

"I forgot to thank you for the poem."

She chuckled. "You're welcome," she sent back.

"You're a better poet than I am."

"I believe I've heard better poetry from those shooting games Mister Beale plays in Ops that he thinks I don't know about," she returned.

He sent her a face which was simultaneously smiling, winking, and sticking its tongue out. "Does that mean you'd help me write a better poem if I needed it someday?"

"Not a chance, dear."


	21. S5E21: Three Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode with an undercover agent who turns out to be playing both sides, and in the end, Hetty backs him into a deal working for her. But there is no way this guy is good news.
> 
> Enjoy!

He was leaning on her car when she arrived, having given Sam the slip for a few minutes.

Hetty paused and looked at him, waiting.

"You sure that was a good idea?" he asked.

"You don't always have to kill the snake, you know," she said. "Sometimes, if you de-fang them, they become helpful. How else do we get antivenom?"

Callen blew out a breath. "That's a hell of a chance you're taking, Hetty. Some snakes can kill without fangs, and now this one knows our address."

"It's a risk, I admit. But one I think is worth taking."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "If you say so."

"You aren't convinced?"

"How do you know he'll ever work for you if you call in that debt?"

"I don't." She made a small, knowing smile. "But if he does come back looking to bite..."

G nodded. "I'll be there."

"Of course you will be."

They exchanged a long, silent look that said many things without words. This was the deepest shadow game, the show played by other agencies. This was walking on the edge of razor-wire, which could cut even if one didn't lose their balance and fall. But it was also sometimes the only way to play.

It was a game where, in theory, one could never trust anyone else, because no one could ever truly be on one's own side.

And the only reason it worked now was because G and Hetty had forsaken that last rule completely.

If this snake came out of the shadows, there was no question — neither would face it alone.

If this snake tried to bite, it would find a pair of mongoose ready to take it down before it could strike.


	22. S5E22: One More Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry about last week – I had Monday off and kind of forgot about everything other than chilling out and catching up on sleep.
> 
> The case on this episode had to do with a little girl Sam used to protect being kidnapped, but the more interesting interpersonal stuff was between Granger and Hetty; he kept dumping the nasty bits on her as part of their constant push-and-pull.
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen was still not sure if he considered Granger part of the team, but whether or not the man was one of his own, he still found himself annoyed by him at least once a day. Like today, when Granger had foisted off all the unpleasant tasks to Hetty, leaving her to get yelled at by SecNav when, really, it was his responsibility to make those calls.

Drinking with Deeks and Kensi afterwards didn't make up for it, even if Hetty got some of her own back by doing an end run around Granger anyway.

He also understood that there was some kind of long game of push-and-pull going on between Hetty and Granger, a game that, if he was any judge, went back decades. They were too used to the rhythm of it, the exchange of blows and debts, the cutting bits that were targeted for maximum damage but never a fatal blow.

Callen understood that game, even if he only played it light-heartedly with his own team or Hetty. But Granger and Hetty were all in, playing so hard sometimes it was far more than a game.

He knew Hetty never really let her guard down around Granger, and that was enough to tell him that this game could turn deadly serious any time.

And thus, Callen would not trust him. Not until Hetty did.

But he still felt bad that she had lost a round today.

He'd already dropped Joelle off at her place — she had an early morning and he was too wired for sleep any time soon. So now he had all night to come up with something, even if it wasn't much.

The smallest things sometimes made the biggest difference — look at the CD cover from today that unerringly led Sam to save a little girl.

He had a few ideas, but most of them were heavy hitters, things he could offer on a far worse day than this. Today had been a success in the end, saving a family and preserving national security. Hetty had been annoyed, not brokenhearted. He had to save his best moves for when their own game would need them.

The idea struck just as he got home. One quick text to Eric — who was definitely awake, apparently the man never slept when there were games to play on the internet — and he knew it would be done by morning.

He made sure to have Eric send it from Callen's email account, just in case Granger ever caught wind of it and was out for somebody's head. But G didn't think Granger would even know it existed. Hetty knew perfectly well how to keep such a thing a secret.

When he saw her the next morning, he simply raised his coffee cup to her in salute. She returned the gesture with her tea from across the office, smiling.

He blasted a quick text to Eric.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

Eric, wisely, didn't mention it in front of anyone else as the day began, but he looked smug all morning.

And well he should.

The GIF of a black chess king with Owen Granger's face on it — wearing an expression Eric had described as "truly derpy" — being toppled by a towering white queen crowned with Hetty's own face was absolutely perfect.

Callen found himself watching it on a loop on his phone any time he was bored for the next week. And he never _caught _Hetty doing the same, but he was pretty sure she was.

And they both traded nearly invisible smiles whenever Granger was around, knowing now that his face could bend that way.


	23. S5E23: Exposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so cute. While the case was nail-biting, more critically it brought into view the idea that, in their line of work, there's no telling what tomorrow will bring and when or if they will get a chance to tell the people they love what they feel. Upstairs in Ops, Nell and Eric each took a green sticky note and wrote some feelings for one another, then exchanged them. Later, they left notes for the rest of the team. It was adorable.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty had watched her team's handling of the green sticky notes with warm affection. Even Owen, who insisted on ruining every precious moment in every day without fail, couldn't quite dim the glow of her pride in her team. They truly were the best, and working together, she felt certain that any challenge, no matter how dangerous, could be met and beaten.

And it wasn't just their skills, all of which were superb. It was their ability and willingness to work together, to find strengths in the collective where they might have been weighed down by individual weaknesses. It was their ability to approach every situation with a mix of humanity and professionalism, and to remain focused on both simultaneously even in trying moments. It was their innate trust, not just between partners, but across the whole.

For example, they might not trust Eric Beale with a gun, but they trusted him to guard their backs from Ops. And when he ordered them to run, or told them they were compromised, or explained a dangerous scenario, their trust in him was as solid as Callen's in Sam Hanna.

They had learned that trust and courage, as well as competence, took many forms. And among the six of them, Hetty knew they had many facets of each covered and covered well.

That had always been the plan, of course.

But, still. It was different, and utterly gratifying, to see it play out as she had hoped.

In the beginning, she had seen the potential for this much, but there was no guarantee it would ever arrive. G Callen, even partnered with Sam, tended to trust few and to share little of himself. Sam Hanna had been honorable and kind, but had hidden his family from all for most of his career. Kensi Blye had rarely given her feelings vent, let alone facts regarding her past. Marty Deeks had adapted himself to the role of an outsider, diffusing tension with a joke without ever opening himself to real harm. Eric Beale was eager, but tended towards self-consciousness. Nell Jones was used to having to battle for respect and coped with it by pushing back and pushing hard.

It could have been a firestorm in a bottle if the six of them hadn't learned to relax their barriers around one another, to put tiny bits of trust in the hands of the others and seen them held with care and respect. Like a chemical reaction, they could have proven volatile and unstable.

Instead, they were strengthened, centered, and more grounded than ever.

And not just because two of the three sets of partners were dancing around a different kind of partnership, either.

Hetty believed that this team would have coalesced regardless of possible romantic feelings. Those were just a bonus on top of the rest of it.

She considered the little green notes again.

Yes, after a case like this, many agents recalled how fragile and uncertain life in their life of work could be, and thus reaching out to affirm the unsaid feelings in the heart was perfectly natural. She had, of course, peeked at the four left by Miss Jones and Mister Beale for the others — purely as an exercise in oversight. And she was not surprised that either of the pair were so frank with their feelings and so willing to make them known, even in a non-romantic context.

She was pleased that the rest of the team, even those who hid their true emotions whenever possible, had accepted them with such grace.

But then, she also knew that those feelings were very firmly, if platonically, returned.

Unbeknownst to the others, Nell and Eric had left the stack of green sticky notes out while they made their rounds. Only Nell had dared offer the pile to Hetty, saying nothing but raising an eyebrow in invitation.

Hetty had declined. "They know already," was how she answered Nell's look.

Nell had smiled and nodded, and, interestingly, had not left one for Hetty for the exact same reason.

Yes, Hetty was fully aware that her team knew her feelings.

But as she passed the bullpen once more before packing up for the evening, she paused.

She did not need to affirm anything to them. Her team knew.

But.

She sighed at her own foolishness, but that did not stop her from lifting a single piece of the green, sticky paper from the stack of notes. She did not write on it. She simply placed it in her pocket and carried it with her. Hetty decided she would either talk herself out of it on the way over, or would see it through and be able to forget it.

She slipped the blank note into Callen's mailbox.

Her team was her family, and they all knew it. She loved them all, dearly. She would fight, kill, and die for any one of them, and she would protect them with all her power and all her strength and every favor she could curry the world over if needed. They knew that all too well.

But, even so, it was different with Callen. Like all the rest of her children, it was always different with those who were hers before they belonged to themselves.

She knew he knew that, too. But this, like so much else, was just another moment for the two of them. Another secret in the game they played with the world, the game she played with all her other children across every agency in this country and several others. The game of pretending their bond could be measured by an agency evaluation or timecard, not in the years prior.

So she left him a blank note. It could never have contained all the words, and so she did not attempt to write any of them. She knew he would hear her meaning anyway.

The following day, she found a newspaper balled up on her desk. Sensing a particular hand in such an odd and inelegant gift, she unwrapped it when no one else was about.

It was an entire stack of green sticky notes — every one of them blank but the top.

"Me, too."


	24. S5E24: Deep Trouble, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here we go with the end of the series.
> 
> Of note, what I find interesting in this episode is not the contact between Callen and Hetty, but it's lack. With the whispers of Hetty being called to Washington, you'd think there would be at least a sense of that tension – but there isn't. Callen ends the episode so hyper-focused on the case he doesn't even notice that he hasn't checked in with Hetty at all.
> 
> So I explained it.
> 
> Enjoy!

She had only just sent Kensi away when the text from Callen arrived.

"On our way in. Anything new?"

Hetty frowned. Such an inquiry was not one he typically sent her way — it was the sort of status update he would request from one of the others up in Ops.

She glanced over where Kensi was stalking back towards her partner.

Mister Deeks was putting his phone back in his pocket.

Of course. Leave it to the detective to monitor her discussion from a distance and decide to contact Callen.

She had no time to explain and, truth be told, this was one battle she didn't want him to fight. Not now, not when this case was troubling her. It wasn't anything she could pinpoint, but there was a weight to this one which had her thinking about her arm holster.

Whatever political game was afoot, the best thing for the case and for Callen himself was to keep him far away from it.

He would be angry later, but this was necessary.

She sent back, "I need you to enact Komodo protocol."

She was pleased when he didn't reply immediately. Two minutes later, he sent a response.

"Confirm Komodo?"

If he were here, she might well have hugged him. She could have phrased it as an order, of course, and would have if he hadn't accepted it. But this was one he wouldn't countermand, not right now.

If he knew about her summons to Washington, he might. But he didn't. And with Komodo in place, he wouldn't even bother to track her, possibly wouldn't even notice her absence. Not until it was too late.

It was a code she had put in place with him years ago. She had a similar one with many of her agents, and with all of the children who had looked to her. A code which was an order, one to surpass any others save the oaths given to the country.

She remembered telling him about it early in his career.

"Komodo dragons have a very unique way of hunting," she had said. "After their initial attack, they will single-mindedly pursue their prey, returning to strike again and again, never ceasing, never turning away from the meal they have marked for themselves.

"Someday I may ask you to adopt the same focus, Mister Callen. Someday I may call upon you to focus on your prey, looking neither left nor right, but pursuing your mission without distraction. If I ask you to become a Komodo, I need you to bend your entire force of will upon what is before you, no matter what."

And he had accepted it.

She typed back, "Komodo confirmed. Good hunting."

He didn't even reply, and she could almost sense the full weight of his attention and skill being brought to bear upon the case. Somehow, she had a feeling he would need it.

Hetty considered telling him not to press Owen too hard when he finally learned why she had shut him out so effectively, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Either way, he wouldn't let her down. No matter what Washington held, she had that much comfort to carry with her.


End file.
